The Life You Give Me
by SapphireShelle91
Summary: A series of one-shots centred on our Favourite Mediator and our Favourite Ghost. It has word themes to each one-shot.
1. Motion

**Author's Note:** Hello Everyone  
Yes, I know it has been awhile since I've posted _anything_ on here. Sorry, 'hangs head, hands clasps and begging for forgiveness', I have been extremely busy with school work, though I have been typing still and posting this fanfic else where but 'sweat drops' but anyway, I'm going to be better an managing all my fanfic accounts around the place so.

Ok, this is a series of one-shot fanfic, most that I have writen so far are Jesse centre. I mean the Guy does not get enough love in the books, well he does but, you know what I mean (I hope). We don't get to see much from his point of view, how he is feeling about what is going on around him, is what I'm getting at... so yeah.

**Disclaimer:** Ok, you all know I'm not Meg Cabot, I write too much Twilight stuff to be her, anyway. But yeah, I do not own any of the characters nor themes that are presented within this fic, they all belong to their rightful owners.

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Motion**

_**Set:**_ Between book 2 Ninth Key/High Stakes and book 3 Reunion/Mean Spirits

_**Location:**_ Suze's room

_**Characters:**_ Jesse and Suze.

_**Point of View:**_Jesse de Silva (Third Person)

_**Status:**_ Complete, one-shot.

He likes to watch her, as she does her homework at night. How she is laying flat on her stomach on her bed, her books in front of her and her feet dancing in the air behind her.

They have always fascinated him, those feet, dancing their own frustrated dance and as Susannah got even more frustrate, glaring from her the back of her text book, where the answer to the problem she was trying to solve, to her own work book, the more those feet would bob and bounce in the air.

He also loved to watch her pull faces at her books, even sticking her tongue out at them, just for the sake of it, to vent some of her irritation.

It was so very hard to contain his chuckles at all those strange facial expressions, but he knows better than to laugh at her, so returns to the safety of watching her feet dance.

They have picked up their tempo, twisting and twining, smacking together and growing all the more agitated. He wonders faintly what she is like at dancing. He has never seen her dance, bounce around to loud music, yes, but real dancing, no. Probably because she has no one to dance with, he muses, before shaking the thought away. He was about to step on dangerous grounds there and it frustrates him greatly.

Her feet grow still, hovering in mid air for a moment before falling to the bed below them with a thud, as if they had lost all their bone structure. With a loud groan and a final sticking of tongue out at her books, Susannah flopped onto her back, grumbling huffily that she will ask CeeCee how to do these problems tomorrow, too tired to continue on with them tonight.

For a moment he feels disappointment, the thought of not being able to continue watching those amusing faces nor watch those pretty, slim feet dance, quite disheartens him, though he is quickly cheered with the knowledge that tomorrow night, that tonight show will perform again and again and again. For as long as Susannah had homework, his evenings are never going to be boring.

He feels his lips pull into a smile and he happily returns to his book, just as Susannah has rotated her head to see what he is up to and demanding to know why he had been staring her. And because he is in such a good mood, he decides to humour her by raising a questioning eyebrow and looked at her in a way that he knows irritates her to no end.

"Looking at you, _querida_? Why would I do that?" he asks her innocently, watching her face grow dark with annoyance with great amusement. She huffs loudly at him and returns to staring at the ceiling though not before kicking the air above, her little feet doing a little dance, just for him to watch


	2. Young

**Young**

_**Set:**_ not long after book 3 Reunion/Mean Spirits

_**Location:**_ Father Dominic's Office

_**Characters:**_ Jesse and Father Dominic

_**Point of View:**_Jesse de Silva (Third Person)

_**Status:**_ Complete, one-shot.

"She is young"

That short statement suddenly made everything that was now the most important thing in his once rather dark and empty world, make complete and total sense and yet the statement still made him what to throw a fit of worry about a certain girl, that he is so certain is going to be the cause of his ultimate death. And it's all because she's YOUNG!

It frustrates him when she does silly, stupid things that put her in the way of danger, all because of her childish pride. The determination to prove to herself and to others that she has independence beyond that of her Mothers and the Good Father's control. His control.

He fumes over her recklessness, he rants about her risky stupid actions all to the Father, who listens to him patiently, nodding when he stops for unneeded breaths of air. The Father understands his concerns, as he has his own for the silly girl, so that is why he tells him about her and all her stupid stunts, but the more he tells and the more the Father nods, also the more the Father starts to smile. He's smiling? And about Susannah doing stupid things, putting herself in life threatening situations!

The Father than explains calmly, "She is young."

And somehow that explains everything, but it still frustrates the hell out of him.

Also what frustrates him is when the Father's smile slips and gives him a very hard look, as if to say "she's young, too young for you. Don't allow her to get away with anything."

He feels rather insulted about that, as if he would and anyway, it wasn't his fault that she was born almost two hundred years to later.

He can feel his tan cheeks grow pale, as if the blood was really leaving his cheeks at that end of that rather childish thought… he paused, maybe Susannah wasn't the only one who had young moments.

He smiles at that and goes off to see what trouble that trouble-magnet girl was about to or had already landed herself into; in the two hours that he has left her.

"She is young." He smirks and materialised into her room just as she stalked in after her obvious fight with her middle, dumbest step brother. And obvious she has won.

She is young and it all makes sense.


	3. Century

**Century**

_**Set:**_ Between book 5 Grave Doubts/Haunted and book 6 Heaven Sent/Twilight

_**Location:**_ The Church

_**Characters:**_ Jesse and Suze.

_**Point of View:**_Jesse de Silva (Third Person)

_**Status:**_ On-going, two-shot

_How can someone, who was born more than half a century after you, be the one for you?_

_How can she possibly be the one that you are meant to be with? When she is a living girl and you are a dead man? A ghost? Even if you hadn't been murdered, there was still the issue of her being born more than half a century after you!_

He did not know the answer to his own questions. Troublesome questions, which have been brooding within him, burning him for months. But he is surprised to find that now, possibly because of the arrival of a rival that could quite possibly steal away the only thing he now holds dear, that has forced him to no longer care about these questions. All he cares about is to hold on to her. To hold on to her, no matter how selfish he is for doing so, he is tired of being responsible. He just wants be with her.

He does not know the hows or whys of everything that has happen to him in these months that have past, that have made up for all those lonely years alone. But even so, they do not make up for the unfairness of it all; the pain that he knows will come in the future for them.

But love has pain included, he knows. It was part of the package, he is finding, but he is willing to fight the pain and if need be, embrace it too. With the love was continuing to grow within him, stronger with each day, he could deal with the pain of knowledge of the future.

Even though it is new and frightening, feelings that he has never truly felt for anyone outside of his immediate family, but these feelings are even different from those of family love.

But he knows that if he ever felt these feelings for anyone outside of his family, they would always be directed at her, his _querida_.

He smiles, as he watches her laughing sheepishly at something her friends have said to her, going a lovely shade of red, that he did not (grumbling) know the reason for the red shade to be gracing her cheeks.

To his disappointment, the pretty red disappears, fading into a pale pink at the appearances of the one he hated most.

He watched her grow stiff and smiled when her lips moved, forming some sort of curt comment and stalking off in the completely opposite to that (cough), who seems to be left speechless for once.

He feels warmth grow within him, causing his smile to grow as he hears a door slam open and a disgruntle Susannah stalked over towards him, muttering darkly under her breath.

"This is all your fault, you know that right?" she said as she flopped on to the bench next to the window of the church beside him, taking a bite of her disgusting food that she had brought with her.

"Hmmm and how is that, _querida_?" he asked amused as he watched the red glow graced her cheeks once more, much to his secret delight.

"That you were born more than half a century too early! If you had been born in this century we wouldn't have this problem!" she grumbled, playfully kicking his shin.

"Oh, so that is my fault is it?" he laughed as she nodded in agreement with him sternly. He laughs even hard at her determine little face, that is growing a dark red colour in anger at his laughter.

"It's not funny and it _is_ all your fault!"

He could help but laugh again, musing how easily it is for him to laugh now than when he was even alive.

He smirks at her slyly, before moving with a blinding speed that makes her squeal in shock to suddenly find herself sitting on his lap with his arms securely around her.

"Je-jesse." He smiled at her squeaks of shock, even though she moved around to make herself more comfortable.

"Now, you see, _querida_, I think it is very funny, since you see, I am in fact not the one at fault here." She stared up at him with big, green curious eyes.

"Oh yeah." He smile grew and he nodded, moving his head in close to hers, so that their noses touched and her bright eyes grew wider with shook of his actions.

"You see, how I see it, this is completely and utterly, _your_ fault." He continued, rubbing his nose fondly against hers. She said nothing in response, her face just continuing to grow redder and redder. He grin in delight as he felt her warmth radiate from her.

"For I was born first, so you're the one who made me wait for over half a century, so it is entirely your fault." He smirked as he watch outrage (that he knew well enough would come from his comment) fume in her eyes. Puffing out her cheeks she huffily blew in his face.

"That's not fair." She mumbled, lightly head butting his chest.

"Still is your fault," he teased; "if you had been born in my time…" he grinned at her, smirking at her tongue sticking out of her mouth in frustration, before she signed, a bright twinkle beginning in her eyes.

"We're never going to stop having this argument, are we?" she questioned him lightly.

"Not with your stubborn attitude. No." He replied, holding her closer to his chest.

"It just doesn't make any sense." He smiled softly into her hair at her mumbled worry.

"No, it doesn't." he reached down and twisted her face up to his gently with his hand. "But do you know, _querida_?" he smiled down at her, once more rubbing his nose against hers, "I don't really care about any of that, not anymore." He lightly kissed her nose, his eyes taking in every shade of red that her beautiful face glowed.

"So, you don't care that you are robbing the cradle with your hundred and fifty-four years of being older than me?" she questioned him teasingly.

"I'll live."

She laughed and practically beamed up at him.

"Strange girl." He shook his head at her fondly.

"HEY! You are with this strange girl!" she slapped his chest, pouting up at him.

"And my mother always predicted that I would have odd tastes in women, if I had had the chance to choose for myself."

"You're stranger that me. Must be the whole 'born-in-a-completely-different-century' thing." Jesse just smiled and kissed her nose again, catching her completely off guard and bring out the startled gasp that he had been aiming to receive, before he lightly kissed her soft, warm mouth, which he got his startled squeak.

He smiled gently into her mouth. He really loved this crazy, hair brain girl, who was most defiantly going to bring about his ultimate death. But he loved her anyway.


	4. Believe

**Believe **

_**Set:**_ early book 6 Twilight/Heaven Sent

_**Location:**_ The Church and Suze's room

_**Characters:**_ Jesse and Suze.

_**Point of View:**_Jesse de Silva (Third Person)

_**Status:**_ Complete, one-shot.

Her belief in them, together, amuses him. It also leaves him almost speechless at times, her blind belief that she could _actually_ be happy with him, _him_, and that it could/would actually work.

_Somehow_, she had told him that afternoon after school, extremely chirpy as she kissed his cheek happily before (almost bouncing, he noted with amusement) she walked away to talk to CeeCee, who was giving her the hard "Your-too-happy-to-be-Suze-Simon! Something-made you-super-happy-and-I'm- going-to-find-out-what" look that he had learned to pick up from Susannah. He had shaken his head… he was still shaking his head!

He knew that this whole situation was insane, impossible really, but did he do anything to stop this from happening? Well, he liked to believe that he _tried_ to and then the thought of how much he had end up hurting them both (hurting her!) usually made him discard the thought.

On the bright side, if there was one to this (his inner self always got mad at him when he started to try and think that this whole situation was a bad thing) he had finally caved in to this absurd situation, that she so believed in.

It just didn't makes sense to him that a healthy, happy (generally), breathing living girl would rather be with a man nearly always wearing contemplative frown upon his face rather than a smile, who could be overly protective, suspicious, a big tease (even he could see that now) and had some of the weirdest morals known to man kind (goes with being a big teases really) rather than a healthy, young man who could give her exactly what she needed (and wanted), buy her a cup of coffee and be introduced to her parents.

For not only was he all that a long list of negatives (he was fairly sure that it had to be longer), he also happen to be, you know, a _ghost_!

Not only does she pick someone to be with who has some major flaws in character, but someone who also happens to be DEAD! And she still believed that they could work!? He bangs his head upon a wall at the back of the church.

They can't possible work, just like the bastard son of Satan said they couldn't, yet she still blindly believes that they can.

He smiles a little, thinking of her stubborn, determine little face and loving every little beautiful bit of it, as she once more argues the point that she loves him and really doesn't care that he's a ghost, just as long as he promises to never ever leave her (again), which he would like to tell her that that is impossible! That he would/could never leave her, dead (or alive), but just can't quite find the guts to do so. And she believes that he was so brave!

He lets out a short snort.

She believes so much, in so much, when it comes to him.

And because of her strong and blind belief in them, he feels, deep within him that he too, can believe in them, despite the impossibility and insanity of it all.

She believed so deeply in them, that she almost brought about her own death to bring him back to her when the (coughcough) had had him exorcised. That was how deeply she believed and that was the first time that he really saw that, how deep it was! The thing, the feeling that he had been fight against for so long inside himself, glow from deep within her, he saw it. Even when a strong part of him had been so sure that she had been the one who had performed his exorcism, seeing her coming towards him down that long dark and foggy corridor, his doubts about her feelings for him vanished.

He still hadn't believed that things could work between them though, hence his leaving for her to learn to be with others, living others, but he hadn't been able to shake her unwavering faith in him. Her belief. Her love.

And he was starting to tire of this, tire of her always being hurt by his stubborn nature. He wanted to believe too. He wanted to believe with her.

It might not make sense to him; it might not even seem right or just of him in his mind for him to be taking her away from a healthy love in her future, but his heart ached to believe that this was possible. That they, Jesse de Silva and Susannah Simon, were possible.

"_Jesse! What are you doing here?"_ he smiles at her face, which transforms from startled confusion to delight as he materialises into her room. She jumps from her bed and her books and bounces over to him, her brilliant green eyes bright with joy and deep, unwavering and strong, blind belief.

He realises (almost too late) that this is all that he needs. All he needs is this belief, her belief and he can ignore all that he knows is wrong about this. He pulls her trusting warmth into his arms and hugs her tightly to him. He knows that something is troubling her, scaring her even and he knows it has something to do with the bastard son of Satan, but what it is, he does not know. And as much as that upsets him, her keeping secrets from him, with the bastard son of Satan, he trusts her. He has too. But he believes in her too, because he loves her and she deserves his belief when she has always given him his.

She believes in them, that they will somehow work… and he believes in them too, now and forever.


	5. Cry

**Cry**

_**Set:**_ mid-book 5 Haunted/Grave Doubts

_**Location:**_ Suze's bedroom mostly

_**Characters:**_ Suze, Ghost and Jesse

_**Point of View:**_ Susannah Simon (mostly) and a littleJesse de Silva (All Third Person)

_**Status:**_ Complete, one-shot.

Most often when she was dealing with Ghosts, she would have to fight them to get them to move on. So when she did watch them move on, it caused her more often than not, to a sigh a sigh of relief rather than a shedding of a tear.

But there are some cases, in which tears are shed and they appear to never want to stop. These's tears that are falling now, she never wanted to stop.

The pain in her chest is too great to allow them to stop as she once more sees that sweet, innocent little smile slowly fade from existence in this horrible, dark world.

There are more reasons to why she hates being a Mediator than the fact that it prevents her from having a social life. Sometimes being a mediator can be hard. Most of the time it was just physically draining for her, having to kick the stupid ghost's butt to get them to move on, but this time, she hadn't had too.

She had just had to hold the little ones hand and explain why she could not go back home to her Mommy and Daddy. To explain to her why her Mommy and Daddy were crying.

A ragged sob escaped from her clenched lips as she sat huddle in a corner of her room, trying to be as quiet as possible as to not arouse her mother of her grief that she would not understand.

She tried to remember the last time she had cried like this over a ghost, but couldn't place a moment other than when she thought she had lost Jesse forever after Jack had sent him to the shadow realm. But she hadn't, she had gotten him back. She was never going to get little Sarah back.

Sarah, a child of six years of age, had just started her first year at Junipero Serra Mission Academy. She had happily babbled to Suze all about it, about how proud she was to be such a big girl to be able to go to 'big' school, as they walked along the beach, trying to figure out what was holding little Sarah back.

At first Suze had been able to treat the situation as she normally tried to with her other mediating jobs, but it had grown steadily hard to do so over time.

Sarah accepted her death easily once Suze explained the full concept to her, which had been hard.

The child was six and was accepting that she was dead and a ghost who was stuck in the land of the living for the heavens know what reason and was taking the whole thing as easily as she probably had accepted the sky was blue. That… that was too much for Suze. She couldn't handle a child at the beginning of her life accepting that it was already over.

She had tried to hand the little girl over to Father Dom, but he refused, saying she needed to learn to deal with these sorts of cases too, not just the ones where the ghost simply did not want to accept their fate.

And Sarah had cried, the first time she had cried since Suze had known her, at the thought of Suze leaving her.

"_Please Susie, no. Don't leave me! I'm be good, I promise to be a really, really good girl. Don't leave me!"_

"_I promise I'll never leave you."_ but how can I promise that when you are the one who is going to leave me?

"_YAY! I love you, Susie!"_

"_I love you too, Sarah."_ This isn't fair. I don't want to let you go.

So, hating the world and young drunk drivers, Suze continue on trying to mediate Sarah.

"_I always want a sister, Susie. I have always want a little one, but I s'pose a big one woldn't be so bad, if she was you."_

And that had been it…

She was gone the moment 'you' had left her lips… just gone, like she had never existed in the world.

Suze had stared at the spot on her lap where Sarah had been cuddled on for what felt like years, before she finally snapped awake, trembling and furious.

She ran from the house, ignoring her Mother's startled calls to her, out into the darkening world.

She didn't know why she ran or where she was running too. She just ran… she ran until a voice of a woman she almost knocked over stopped.

"Ah, sorry." Suze had whispered.

"You're that girl. The girl from the hospital the day after Sarah…" the woman's voice began to tremble with emotion of grief.

Suze blinked at the middle aged woman and then to her partner and her heart sunk.

Why was the world doing this to her! Sending Sarah's grieving parents across her path just after Sarah had moved on. Did it hate her that much! First Jesse leaves her and doesn't love her back! Then Paul! Now this! Her universe it a BITCH!

"Yeah, I am. Once again I'm-I'm so sorry for you lose." Suze managed to get the words out, but could hear the lack of emotion within her voice but she knew that if she tried to add even a little, she would shatter into a million pieces.

"Thank you." the woman replied softly. "And it's so much harder now." She whispered more to herself than to Suze.

"She would have been so happy, darling, think of that." the woman's husband soothed, hugging her tightly to his chest.

"I know." Looking back at Suze, the grieving mother smiles sadly, tears glowing in her eyes, "we just found out I'm pregnant, with a little girl. Been so caught up with," she took a deep trembling breath, "these last few months that I haven't even been aware of the symptoms."

"You're having a baby? A baby girl? A little sister for Sarah?" Suze whispered dully, face frozen in shock, but blood roaring in her ears.

"Yes."

"When did you find out?" Suze asked.

"About an hour ago." Suze had glanced at her watch and closed her eyes.

"Sarah has a little sister."

She had said her goodbyes to Sarah's parents quickly, heartbroken, and went back home, torn at the irony of what had happen. When asked by her mother why she had run out, she lied and said she had just want a run and left for her room before her mother could question her more.

And that was where she was now, in a corner, crying softly into her knees at the cruelty of the world.

"This isn't fair. This isn't fair. This isn't FAIR!" she chanted between her sobs.

"I know."

"What-what are you doing here? I thought you weren't here anymore. I mean, I around here, not as in you weren't around on this plane, I just-I just." Her voice broke and word refused to sound from her lips.

"Shush, _querida_." His face was filled with agony she did not understand. Why did he care that she was cry? Why was he even here?

"whatdoyouwant?" her voice return with a rambled sentence, that she was amused that he managed to comprehended it. Or maybe he hadn't understood what she said for he said nothing in return, just stared down at her with deep, sorrowful eyes that burn into her soul and left her weak.

God, why did he have to have this affect on HER? She didn't want him to have this affect on her, not now! She just wanted him to leave!

"Go away." She muttered harshly, her words more measured and understandable, glaring at him for all her worth, though she figure the affect was probably ruined by her red, tear filled eyes.

He didn't move.

"I said 'go away'!" her voice was close to shriek now and she was surprised no one came to see who she was yelling at. But really, she didn't care if anyone came, if it got him to leave than fine, let her family think she was nuts, she didn't care. For at this moment, all she was aware of was her grief for an innocent child who had been taken way before her time and her hatred for this man before her. She never thought she would ever hate Jesse, she didn't think it was possible. That she loved him too deeply to ever even cross the hatred line. But she had and she hated him almost as deeply as she had loved him.

"No." his reply was simple and direct as was his movements. He moved forward and grasped her arms, pulling her to her feet and into his chest, holding her tightly.

"What-what are you doing." She whispered into his chest. No, she hated him. She HATED him. He left her! He didn't love her! Probably thought she was some stupid little girl he was constantly having to save. She tried to shove him away, to get away from him, scream at him to never come near her ever again, to get the hell out of her life, it wouldn't matter anyway, he was hardly ever in it now anyway.

_But he's here now._ A soft voice whispered in last ounce of saneness within her black twirling mind. He is, isn't he. Her fight against his strength grew limp as she started to slump against him.

"Cry, _querida_. Cry, but don't cry alone." His voice, so soft and gentle in her ear, it caused something inside of her to break, shatter into a million pieces. A strangled sob, escaped her lips as her grief began to consume her. Consume her and then leave her.

And he just held her, tightly, rocking her small, fragile human body in his arms in soothing rocks. He knew she could not understand the motive behind his actions, but at the moment, he knew she also didn't care. She had just wanted to be held. Not by a lover, by someone who just cared about her and understood the grief that she was feeling. So he just held her until, she cried herself out sending her exhausted body to sleep.

He sat on his window seat, scratching Spikes ears gently, staring intently at the restless girl in the bed, listening to the little sobs that ever so often escaped her lips.

His heart ached for her. Never had he seen her like that, the pain that seem to have been tearing apart every vibe of her small, fragile human body.

He had kept his distance with this mediating, for his own selfish reasons, the desire to hide from his past. The past that involved five little sisters, all of whom had all left the world, and all of whom he had seen within that bright and innocent face when he first saw her with Susannah in Father Dominic's office, when Susannah had tried to pass the child over to him.

He now found it cruel what the Father had done. A cruel but needed lesson that Susannah had needed to learn desperately, but never… never had it occurred to him that she would take the child transition from this plane to the next, so… so badly.

He was so selfish, it amazed him. So desperate was he to keep Susannah safe from a relationship with him, that he didn't pay any heed to the pain that she was going threw with this child. And the pain that he had caused her.

He had seen that her tears had not only been for the child but for him, for the pain that he was causing her, the loneliness that had be the result of his actions to do the "right" thing by her. he almost laughed, his reasons keeping his distance from her now seem to be silly, childish excuses, keeping him from her when she had need him most.

He was glad he had answered her silent call of his name, to have held her close, even with her glares of hatred towards him piece his heart like a thousand knives.

He stared at sleeping girl, who had cried for ghosts who had not asked for her tears, yet had received them none the less. Sarah had moved on, but he was still here. And he would never make her cry again, not over him and his foolish actions of hurt.

He moved to her side and kissed her forehead gently, his heart heavy and determined to make amends.

No more tears, not for him or because of him at least.


	6. Century part 2

**Author's Note:** I've uploaded a lot of one-shots today lol, this is make up with how slack I've been with my uploads. I've been writing... alot and just not uploading anything up on here, so to make up for it, I'm doing this. So yeah.

Ok, any ideas for future shots for any of the characters of the Mediator? Please let me know and I'll write them up and post them with acknowledgement to you and preview readings to any of my future one shots.

Anyway, hope you have enjoyed and will enjoy this fanfic.

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Century (part 2)**

_**Set:**_ one year after book 6 Heaven Sent/Twilight has finished

_**Location:**_ Carmel Library

_**Characters:**_ Jesse and Suze. (duh!

_**Point of View:**_Jesse de Silva (Third Person) (another duh! I just love this guy so much! He is so fun to write for)

_**Status:**_ complete, two-shot

_How can someone, who was born more than half a century after you, be the one for you?_

_How can she possibly be the one that you are meant to be with, when she is a living girl and you were a dead man? A ghost? Even if you hadn't been murdered, there was still the issue of her being born more than half a century after you! How could it ever work?_

He didn't know the answers to his own questions back then. Those troublesome questions that use to eat away at him from the inside out, but he is so glad now that he did not allow them to destroy everything that he could possibly have with his _querida_.

He is glad that he did not allow them to stop him, to force him to think in one of the most crucial moment of his life. The MOST crucial moment of his life!

That he had just followed his gut and his feelings for Susannah to lead him to whatever end. And he loved the end that it had leaded him too.

"Come on, Jesse! You've been in here studying all morning. It will not kill you to take one tiny breath of fresh air down at the beach."

He smirked down a the text book that had sent him cross eyed almost twenty minutes ago, right before Susannah had come and found him here in the Carmel Library.

"I didn't go to all that trouble to try and save you, to have you waste away to nothing, surrounded by medical text books. I mean, you are already ahead of the class! And you didn't even spend twelve lousy years at school." She grumbled the last bit. School, exams and homework, were becoming quite a load for her and she had had as much time to spend with him as he did with her. And that wasn't much.

He smiled up at her, catching her off guard, a thing he was exceptionally proud off and a thing he simply loved doing.

She had obviously thought he had been ignoring her, too absorbed in the book to notice her or had simply fallen asleep, something that he did more frequently then he thought possible.

"I don't know _querida_." He began to tease, "I may, what's the word? Slack off if I go to the beach too often." Even as he was saying this he was already up from his little cubical in the corner of the library and packing up his things, with the air of thanks that his _querida_, at times, had the best timing ever.

"Like you could ever slack off." Susannah snorted, hooking arms with him as they walked to the borrowers counter.

"In this century and with you, it's a hard thing not too." Jesse smiled.

"That is your own fault for falling in love with a girl, who is out of a completely different century to your own." Susannah retorted.

"And I wouldn't have it any other way. I think I was meant to have a love out of my own century, anyway." He shrugged, ignoring the Library assistant's odd looks directed at both of them and the swiping glances she gave just him (which Susannah calmly returned with a fierce glare, causing the poor woman to double back in fear of possibly getting hit.).

"Eh, why?"

"Because I would never have found a girl, in the early nineteenth century, who so completely drove me insane with her silly antics, crazy behave and stubborn attitude." She fumed up at him.

"That's why I'm so lucky to have found my one in over a century and half after my own birth (and death)." He wrapped his arm around her, his back pack filled to bursting point with medical texts books as they walked out of the library.

Once outside, he kissed her forehead fondly.

God only knew how much he loved this crazy, beautiful and over-sensitive girl, who is so out of step with him, yet so right for him that he doesn't care one bit that he had to wait almost two hundred years to find her.


	7. Hair

**Hair**

_**Set:**_ Four years after book 6 Twilight/Heaven Sent

_**Location:**_ Apartment

_**Characters:**_ Jesse and Suze and Gina

_**Point of View:**_Susannah Simon (First Person)

_**Status:**_ Complete, one-shot.

"He won't notice." Gina told me calmly and with confidence as we walked back to my and Jesse's apartment of two years, that just over looked the shore line of Carmel's beautiful beach.

Gina had come to stay with us for two weeks, to get away from her mad, busy city to life to spend some quality time with m, by the beach and to pick on Jesse… or try to, he never really responded to any of her teasing or jibes. At first I thought, that was because he just didn't understand what on earth Gina was on about (honestly, at times I have trouble understanding what she's on about) but I now know, that his playing ignorant to know less that subtle remarks about mine and his relationship, is his way of getting back at her. No responses to feed upon, means no game for Gina and it frustrated her to no ends, while I just sat back and laugh my head off at them both.

Anyway, back to my immediate problem.

"Why won't he notice?" I asked, wondering how he would/could possibly miss this change in my appearance. It was kinda obvious that I had done something to change it.

"He's a guy! And guys just don't notice these sorts of things." She gave my hair a gentle tug.

"Sort of beats the purpose of getting anything done to it." I replied, pouting at my lock of hair that she held between her fingers. Gina just shrugged, her now bright copper curls blowing super model style in the soft summer wind.

We walked into the apartment together though Gina immediately snuck of off to the spare bedroom, leaving me by myself to face Jesse, who was cooking in the kitchen.

The guy was dead and a ghost for over a century and half and he is still a better cook than ME!

….

Bad example, ok the point is he can cook! And well!

"Um, hi." I could feel my nervousness build up inside of me as I walked into our small kitchen. Jesse turned from the stove, where he was cooking something that had thick meaty sauce involved and blinked at me.

_Here it comes,_ my inner voice sighed as Gina's list of 'What-Men-Do-When-They-Know-Something-Is-Different-About-Their-Girlfriends-But-Aren't-Sure-What'

"_He'll blink and look you up and down for a moment, to take you all in, cause his brain knows that something is different about you."_

Check. He was doing exactly that, though he's eyes were mainly searching my head, possibly my hair… fingers crossed.

"_he can't quite put his finger on what you've done, but he'll say you look nice, anyhow, and that it suits you as to stay on your good side. Typical male behaviour."_

"You look nice." _Damn! Why does Gina have to be right about this? Jesse isn't a TYPICAL MALE! He just isn't!_

I fight down a heavy sigh of sadness and turn to go and tell Gina that she was right and that I was wrong, but a large, hard but ever so gentle hand, grasped my elbow, stopping me from leaving.

"Jesse?" I asked in puzzlement. He was frowning down at me, ever so slightly as his dark eyes continued to search over my head, his face completive.

"It's a lot shorter than I thought you'd ever get it cut, but it does look nice. Very different but it is a nice different. It actually suits you quite a bit, _querida_." He took a lock of my hair between his fingers and gave it a gentle tug, his lips curled into a smile of amusement.

I just stared up at him for a moment, in silence, a grin beginning to curl upon my own lips as a pleased little squeal erupted from them as I flung my arms around his neck and hugged him tightly.

"I love you." I giggled, kissing his cheek lovingly.

"I love you too, _querida_." He chuckled, torn between confusion and amusement by my actions, obviously and understandably not understanding that he had done what so many guys didn't do. Even Adam took time to twig that something was different with CeeCee, not over long, but Jesse beat him by five minutes.

I just smiled brightly up at him and hugged myself closer to him.

At dinner (Jesse had cooked spaghetti Bolognese, which is a favourite of ours) I smiled across the table at Gina, who looked confused back at me.

"He noticed." I giggled as Jesse came to sit beside me. I curled a shorter than shoulder length lock around my finger. Gina burst out laughing, clapping her hands in delight and beamed at a thoroughly confused Jesse, who had quickly learnt to just let us be our weird selves and went back to eating his dinner. As long as we didn't insult the evil monster, who was destroying our apartment, he let us be as weird as we wanted to be.

But anyway, I was happy. Oh so happy. I had a nice hair cut, which was gently style with soft layers and Jesse had NOTICED! Proving to everyone, especially Gina (thank god), that he is, in fact, NOT a typical male! Though that might have something to do with the fact that he was in fact born in a completely different century… oh well, I'm just even luckier to have him. I really love this Man.


	8. Fool

**Fool**

_**Set:**_ Between book 3 Reunion/Mean Spirits and book 4 Darkest Hour/Young Blood

_**Location:**_ Suze's House (mostly her room)

_**Characters:**_ Jesse and Suze (duh, duh, duh!)

_**Point of View:**_Jesse de Silva (third Person) (and because I love the guy!)

_**Status:**_ Complete, one-shot

They say only fools fall head over the heels in love, he mused as he watched the tiny brunette with flashing green eyes yell and hit a huge form of blonde hair male, who was grunting and yelling back at her as she tugged even more firmly on his shorten hair.

He does not know, what exactly, they are fighting about. Probably the silly boy had stolen the last of Susannah's muesli bars or drunk directly out of the orange juice container again or something ridiculous like that.

He chuckles, amused by how easily the bulky boy is taken down by a mere slip of a girl, and wonders why the fool keeps pushing his luck, then he laughs openly at himself, knowing, full well, that he too, like the stupid boy, is also pushing his own luck, though he is pushing his luck in a different, more dangerous direction.

He knows that he is a fool for pushing his luck, as he is, in the direction that he knows that they are heading, even though he is well aware that his _querida_ has no idea that they are actually heading down that dangerous road.

For the silly girl believes that he has no other feelings other than friendship towards her! Believes that her feelings are one-sided; and yet she is still able to maintain her normal persona around him, even though he knows that inside himself that these deep, foreign feelings are eventually going to drive him insane. Only reason he isn't already, is because he has had years to master self control over his emotions. Not having to use them for just over a century an a half does wonders to learning self control! And yet his silly _querida_ is still only a child (not even having two decades behind her) and yet has better control over her own emotions then him and yet the oblivious girl has no idea!

He does admires this about her though, her ability to still act casual and normal when he himself acts like a completely fool in her presence, and yet, he muses, even though he feels that his feelings are so completely obvious, the girl misses everything or if she doesn't, she misinterprets all he does towards as either friendship or anger at her stupidity for doing reckless things.

Well he does get mad at her for doing reckless things, but from fear of losing her forever rather than any other ridiculous reasons that her brain has cooked up to explain all that he does. Sometimes, he wonders if he should just, as they say, drop the bomb shell on her and then just sit back and watch what happens. It has got to be, he knows it must be, more interesting than this annoying creeping around each other that they've been doing.

He smiles weakly. He really is a fool for allowing this to happen. He should stop this, now. Dig his heels in and fight. Do whatever possible for the relationship between him and his _querida_ to become platonic again… but he is a fool! A fool head over heels in love with a girl he knows loves him back but has no idea that her own feeling are not one-sided.

He smile grows as he returns to his window seat and Spike crawls pitifully meowing for attention on to his lap and shakes his head as Susannah stalks into their room, muttering away darkly under her breath about the stupidity of her step brother and flops on to her bed, still muttering away and kicks her slim little feet in the air so that they do a little dance, much to his entertainment.

_Fool_

But he can't help it!

_Fool_

And there was really nothing that he could do about it!

_Fool_

Nothing he wants to do about it.

_Fool_

He is really is just a fool in love.


	9. Hands

**Hands**

_**Set:**_ I have actually no idea when this should be set, I guess between book 3 Reunion/Mean Spirits and book 4 Darkest Hour/Young Blood, but really it can go anywhere.

_**Location:**_ Old house/ Suze's bedroom

_**Characters:**_ Jesse and Suze

_**Point Of View:**_ Jesse de Silva (First person, which is a first. I have no idea whether this sounds like Jesse or not. Well I think I've sort of grasped his voice and thoughts for first person, but you guys can comment on this)

_**Status:**_ Complete, one-shot.

She has such tiny, yet powerful fist. She can knock a person almost three times her size out cold with one of her skilled punches. She can do so much damage to those she fights against with those little fists.

But as I watch those powerful fists colliding with yet another frustrating, resident ghost's jaw, I feel the sudden desire to uncoil those little bruised buds and allow the trapped pink flower to bloom.

I want to see those little hands that make those powerful fists. I want to intertwine my weatherworn fingers with her soft modern cared ones. To kiss the smooth knuckles of an open hand not the bloody ones of a closed fist.

She clutches one of her fist to her chest, obviously injured from that final warning blow to the stupid man's jaw. The warning was, thankfully, made clear and the twenty year old ghost abandoned his grandmother's treasures. As to what exactly he was going to do with antic jewellery (being a ghost and not needing the money that he would most likely get for pawning off the jewellery to survive), was all quite beyond me, but new ghosts where known to continue on old habits. Old habits are hard to kill, even when you are dead, you still have them.

As is proven in my next action; I scold her for her carelessness, that final blow was unnecessary and was badly landed on the youth anyway. And as I scold her, like a child, I took her wounded little fist in my large brown hands, inspecting the damage that she had stupidly inflicted upon herself, yet again.

As I inspected the bruising, cut knuckles, I amuse myself by noting that just one on my hands could swallow both on hers. I chuckle at this discovery, earning a furious look from my _querida_, but I ignore it, for here was my chance to truly see what her hands would look like in mine.

"Release your fists, _querida_." I ordered her gently, though I was doing the deed of helping her fists relax as I spoke the order.

"OW! Why?" she grumbles wincing as I gently uncoil her hurt right fist.

_Because I want to see your hands, not your fists, _querida_._ "Because you've fracture two of your knuckles from the looks of it and," I gently rub the two suspected fracture knuckles and received a sharp 'ow' and kick to the shins in return for my kindness, "and from the feel of it too. Which means your hand needs to remain flat, not in a fist" She threw me a dirty look and tried to reclaim her fist. My own hands engulf hers, refusing to let go.

"Jesse!" she whined, pouting up at me, but having had five little sisters, one does become more than a little immune to all those little whines and faces, so I ignored her whining and pouting, probably best anyhow, and gently open my hands as if trying to contain an agitated moth inside of it instead of a young girl's little fist. No, hand.

I smile. She had, wincingly released her well known fist into a less well known hand. Holding her in place by the wrist I make a show of inspecting her knuckles from a different angles, which I was, but truly I was noting just how well her pale, relatively smooth (only because of modern hand cream products. If they didn't exist her little hands wouldn't survive the battles Susannah puts them threw) little hand fitted in my large, callused palms and fingers (from hard laboured work on a farm as the only son, losing workers because of gold rush), brown tanned hands. It truly amazed me.

"Jesse?"

I just shrugged, indifferent with a teasing smile on my lips that I know irritates her and is obviously beginning to upset her.

"Let's go home. You need to treat your hand, get some ice on it and strap it." I turn, to start heading in the direction of home but was stopped by her not following me.

I sigh in exasperation.

"_Querida_! Treatment for your hand, now!" I turn back to her impatient though bracing myself for the wrath that is sure to be unleashed from her for my treating her as a child. To my great surprise it does not come, in fact she does not even look angry, not in the slightest. In fact she looked rather like some one had hit her over the head with a wooden fence post.

"_Querida_?" I ask her slowly, calmly though inside I can feel panic rising in me with her lack of usual fury and eagerness for a fight. Had she been hurt? Hit over the head in the fight before I had come along? She had been fine only moments ago, but delay shock? Head wounds could do that…

"You're holding my hand?" my train of wild thoughts collided with a wall inside my head as her dazed voice breaks threw every barrier I had ever built in my life. I stared at her and see a slightly bewildered, but no less delight smile gracing her lips.

"You have really large hands." She informs me rather brightly. I raise an eyebrow at her and as I do so; I note the heavy, dark circles under her pretty green eyes. She was tired. Very, very tired. It seemed that the fatigue of late nights from this pass week trying to mediate the troubled youth was finally taking it toll upon her. I smile gently down at her and nod.

"Yes and you have very small, very pretty hands, they were not designed to beat the living daylights out people who are much, much bigger than you." I replied softly, leading her out of the old house, empty because the old woman (the grandmother to the troubled youth) who lived here was in hospital for a knee replacement.

"I didn't ask for this." Came the mumbled retort at my side. I squeeze her unhurt hand gently.

"I know _querida_. I know." We move slowly, even when Susannah is on her bike, I am the one guiding it, to keep her from harm or from falling into poison oak.

My arms around her form as I walk with her on the bike, my hands swallowing her on the bikes handles.

When she is tucked into bed, I strap her right hand and muse to myself the differences between her fists and the hands that create those fists.

She has such tiny, powerful hands. She can knock the breath out of a male almost twice her size just by doing something as innocent as grasping his hand tightly while she slept.

She can do so much damage to the heart that she holds in the palm of her hands that heart being completely under her control no matter how much its original owner may fight for control.

But as I watch that little hand curl into a fist around my own hand, though desiring her touch, even in this innocent manner, I gently release my hand from her grasp.

In compromise, I gently intertwine my weatherworn fingers with her soft modern cared ones and gently kiss the only smooth knuckle among the nine other bruised ones.

So tiny!

So powerful!

Hands.


	10. Book

**Book**

_**Set:**_ Book 1 Shadowland/ Love you to Death

_**Location:**_ Suze's Bedroom

_**Characters:**_ Jesse and Suze

_**Point of View:**_Susannah Simon (third Person)

_**Status:**_ Complete, one-shot

From a young age, her father had taught her to never judge a book by its cover. He told her that no matter how bland or badly designed or drawn the cover art might be or however boring the blurb may sound, if you pick up a book off the shelf, you have to read at least the first chapter of that said book.

For though covers may be terrible and the blurb is too filled with words that it tells you absolutely nothing about the story, just that the blurb writer was an idiot and obviously being paid by length and complication of each word, you might in fact discover the most brilliant story you have ever read.

He also told her to not to just pick a book for its cover, for as beautiful as it may be, the actual story could be a bore or just bad use of the English language.

So, he finally said after his long hour of ranting about books and how not to judge them all because of its cover, if you pick up a book and you immediately don't like it because of how it looks or how it blurbs sound, still read the first chapter for you may be pleasantly surprised.

She wasn't sure why exactly, now, after all these years of her father being dead, that his advice that he gave her when she was just four years of age would come back to her now. Ok, so she was being a little more judgemental about the whole situation than was probably necessarily, her new family was at least trying to make her feel welcome. But that was judge of character not a book, these were people that she was going to live with not a books that she was planning to read or not planning to read but she had too because she had picked the book off the shelf.

It wasn't like she was going to pick him off the shelf and read his life story… actually, looking up into his annoyed dark eyes, she found that she actually would like to know his story which was obviously going to be interesting, handsome dark cover or not…


End file.
